“I don’t care,” she balked as Benny and Elliot as followed her running down the hallway to her front door. “I just want to go home, turn on my laptop to confirm the date. I don’t believe it!”
“Sophie Girl!” Elliot’s body cut her off. “I told you. This is the hardest part. Who gives a hoot about taste, gray parts; it’s time that matters. They gave us something at the hospital. It erases time. We’re experiments on time.”
“Shut up Elliot.” Benny yelled. As he slowly turned so did his tone. A tender kindness shined through his melancholy bulk as he calmly advised, “Sophie, let’s get you packed and go ask Simon. Okay? He can explain it. He said he can ease the loss of time at the loft.”
“Oh yeah, Stoney face is a product of this mess too, you know. He’s in it for something—and it’s more than being philanthropic with his lofty space. I say we hide out at my place. Hugh? My old lady, she’ll make it all golden.”
“I just want to know the date,” she said, jingling the correct key towards the lock.
“You got a love letter here.” Benny swiped the folded piece of notebook paper taped over the peep-hole and handed it to Sophie.
She felt a slightest grin lift her cheeks over the familiar turn of the lower curve of the letter S of her name.
Sophie – Please - Talk to me. Jacob.
The sickness in the center of her mind tried to encroach the memory of the image of a smiling Jacob in need of a haircut, yet, instead she recalled the moment the picture was snapped. She waited for the gush—it trickled, tickling on its way down her arm to drip off her gray fingers holding his note. The gush landed in her pocket; safe, from the sickness.
“Yep, it’s the boyfriend,” Elliot smirked. “He’s going to hate the rock hard abs of one Simon Archer.”
“He’s my friend,” she stressed the final syllable, turning the key inside the deadbolt and pushed her body against the door.
She turned the key. Listened to the bolt lower into place, unlocked, and then she pushed against the door
“Oh no!” she shrieked. “Someone has been in my apartment! It’s the doorknob that’s locked. I never lock it. I don’t even have its key.”
“Wait a minute! Without going into grave detail, I might have a little experience with locks.” With effort, Elliot knelt to the door and vigorously jiggled the doorknob.
Benny flicked Jacob’s note over his shoulder. “Some friend.”
“Jacob would never enter my place without permission, “she said. “Elliot, can you really break in?”
“Do you have a hair pin?” he asked.
“Yes, in my cosmetic bag.”
“Where’s your cosmetic bag?”
“In my bathroom!”
“What good does that do?”
“Let me take care of this.” Benny marched to the door, placed his leg under the knob, and in one swift move jammed up his knee breaking the knob apart. “Now, there’s no reason to worry about anyone using that lock again.” He let the door swing open.
Tick, tick, tick.
A deep swell of anxiety soured her stomach. She flipped on the hall light. The square walls of her condominium appeared...